"Well, be at my house by two, and then we shall have the pond almost to ourselves for a while, and we'll be ready to go home by the time the crowd gets there."
Dorothy was a good teacher and in the hour they spent on the pond
Ruth gained both skill and confidence.
"I never shall be nervous again about it," she said with enthusiasm as they took a last swing around the pond together. "It's like so many other things; you have to get the feeling of it before you can really enjoy it."
"That's so," assented Dorothy; "you probably never will lose it now. My, but it's growing colder every minute, isn't it? Let's hurry home, and I'll make some hot chocolate. You'll have plenty of time before you need to study."
Ruth stooped to take off her skates at once. "I'm really as hungry as a bear," she confessed, "and a cup of your chocolate will be fine."
When the girls entered the house Dorothy stopped short as she caught the sound of voices in the library. She listened intently a second, then she frowned, put her finger on her lips, and grasping Ruth by the hand led her softly across the hall and up-stairs. Not until they had reached the large room in the third story and had closed the door did she break the silence which enfolded them.
"For pity's sake," asked Ruth as she took off her coat and hat, "what is it and who is it?"
"Oh, it's only Miss Cynthia," answered Dolly carelessly. "I didn't want mother to know I'm in the house."
"Who's Miss Cynthia?" pursued Ruth with great curiosity, "and why don't you want your mother to know?"
"Why, Miss Cynthia Atwood, of course. Don't you know her yet? You're fortunate, that's all I can say. She lives in that funny little house near the library, and she's the last surviving member of one of the oldest families here. I ought to know, for she's told me times enough."